Tuesday, April 10, 2018

My Unnamed Novella

Any one want to name my novella? I kind of like Too Hot to Tango, as a lot of the story takes place in Latin America, but I don't want anyone to think this is a spicy book. Other thoughts:

Singing Out Loud

Argentine Tango

And some book cover ideas:

In
a hazy room filled with flashing lights, throbbing music, and hundreds of
beautiful people, Adrienne felt like a mallard surrounded by swans. And she
longed for a peaceful bit of swamp. A woman in a silvery dress resembling plastic
wrap pushed past her, leaving behind a stench of perfume. Adrienne sought out a
corner where she’d be less likely to be touched or bumped into, but the best
refuge she could find was a bar stool. She hiked herself onto it and checked
her watch. Was it too early to go home? Meanwhile, a man wearing a floral shirt
brushed up against Adrienne and sloshed his drink on her.

“Oh,
clumsy me,” he said, “So sorry!” After setting his drink on a nearby table and
grabbing a handful of napkins, he patted her down.

Adrienne
shied away from the man with his lingering fingers and over-powering cologne.
Silently she cursed Sebastian because somehow this was all his fault—even
though he wasn’t there. She didn’t know where he was. And she didn’t know why
she’d ever agreed to attend this awful party. She slid off the barstool and weaving
through the laughing and smiling guests, she made her way to the restroom.

In
the hall, Stephanie snagged her wrist. “You’re not escaping.”

“This
was a bad idea.” Adrienne pulled her wet blouse away from her skin and the warm
scent of wine wafted over her.

“And
you think moping at home is a better one?”

Adrienne’s
phone buzzed. She scrambled to open her sequin clutch bag.

“Huh-uh.”
Stephanie snatched the purse. “No! He doesn’t get to talk to you.”

“How
do you know it’s him?”

“I
don’t. But if it is, he’s the last person you should be talking to.” Stephanie
turned her voice into a purr. “Come on, sweetie, have some fun. You don’t need
him.”

Adrienne
blinked back tears. “He’s my husband.”

“But
he hasn’t acted like it in months…maybe even years.” Stephanie opened the purse
and sighed when she checked the phone.

“It
was him, wasn’t it?”

Stephanie
handed the purse back to Adrienne and slipped her arm around Adrienne’s waist
and tried to urge her back into the thick of the crowd. “Let me introduce you
to my friend Geoff. He’s an artist, too.”

“Graphic
design?”

“No,
video games.”

Images
of bloody computer graphics flashed in Adrienne’s mind. A creature carrying an
automatic weapon crashed into the room and began firing. Blood spurted. People
screamed. Adrienne shook the visual from her mind. “I have to go,” she said. “I
really need to talk to Sebastian.”

After
thanking the hostess and following her directions to the room where the coats
had been gathered, Adrienne stepped into the bedroom, closed the door, leaned
against it, and battled tears. She took a deep breath and a glance at the coats
and jackets heaped on the bed. Ninety percent of them were black—like hers. But
wait, why was there a shoe amid the jackets? Two shoes. No, four shoes.

Oh
dear, what was that couple doing on the bed, buried beneath the coats? And how
would Adrienne ever extract hers without interrupting? She quickly left, sans
coat.

Outside,
away from the party’s crush of noise and people, Adrienne breathed a little
easier. The misty air blurred the headlights of the cars splashing down the
black and shiny roads. Reflections of the store’s neon advertisements glistened
on the slick sidewalk. The cold damp penetrated Adrienne’s blouse and the mean
breeze twirled around her legs. Why had she let Stephanie talk her into going
to a party full of strangers? Because it
was better than spending another evening alone.

On
the drive home, Adrienne tried to rehearse all the things she needed to say to Sebastian,
but instead, she choked on all of her tears.

#

Nick
stared in horror at the computer screen. “How did this happen?” His voice,
usually so deep and melodic, came out in a croaky whisper.

“Come
on,” Steph elbowed him, “you have to admit this is amazing for business!”

Nick
pulled his gaze away from the YouTube channel to give her what he hoped was a
terrifying glare. She was like a sister to him. He had backed her when her
parents had thrown a fit about her purple hair and multiple piercings. He had
chased off her loser boyfriend. He loved her and thought the feeling mutual,
but all of those warm fuzzy feelings were evaporating as he watched himself
singing on the internet and realized she was the one to blame.

Steph
grinned back at him, wiped her hands on her apron, and pointed her chin at the
line snaking around the counter of the Taberna de Música. “They don’t just
come here for cocoa, you know.” She patted his shoulder and practically skipped
out of the office.

He
watched her join Jon behind the counter and say something to the guy next in
line who threw back his head and laughed.

Nick
told himself that they weren’t laughing at him, were they? He glanced at the computer.
According to the page views, so far about a thousand people had watched the
video of him singing at his cousin’s Pedro’s wedding. There had to be millions
of amateur videos of people singing at weddings—why would a thousand people choose
to watch him? Of course, it didn’t help that his cousin’s bulldog, Lester,
dressed in a tux, gave Nick his rapt attention, his big head swinging in time
with the music. How had Nick not noticed this at the time? He replayed the
video, curious about what else he’d missed.

Jon
strode into the office. “Are you still obsessing over that?”

Nick
shook his head, closed the laptop with a sharp click, and pushed away from the
desk. “Nah.”

“I
don’t know why you want to hide your talent beneath a bushel.” Jon was studying
to become a youth pastor and liked to spout Biblical phrases. “You have a gift.
You have to let it shine.”

Nick
interrupted before Jon could start singing, This
Little Light of Mine. “No, I don’t. What I have to do is keep this shop
afloat.” Nick thought about going out and wiping down tables—his standard go-to
when his accounts were all caught up—but the fear that some of the guests had
seen the video froze him. He paced across the room.

Concern
flashed in Jon’s eyes. “We’re doing fine, right?”

“Well,
yeah.” Nick stopped and clapped a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t
mean to scare you. We’re doing great.” In fact, they were doing much better
than he’d projected when he’d opened the café. He’d patterned the shop after
his uncle’s in Argentina. Like any standard coffee shop, they served hot
beverages and a smattering of baked goods, but what set them apart from a
Starbucks was their open microphone for musicians, poets, and comedians. They
also sold vinyl records and vintage sound systems.

Nick’s
thoughts drifted to his Tio Jose and he fought a wave of homesickness. But
moments later, the sound of his own voice jolted him back to the here and now.
He glanced at the closed laptop before bolting out of the office.

He
halted behind the counter and stared at the TV screen in the corner of the
room. All the patrons in the shop turned to stare at him before bursting into
applause and cheers. Stunned, Nick backed away. Moments later, without any real
recollection of how he’d gotten there, he found himself in the service closet
wedged between a shelf of cleaning supplies and a hamper of dirty aprons. He
pulled out his phone, sank into a squat, typed in the YouTube channel, and
found the video of himself and Lester.

Five
thousand views.

How is this happening? His
head spun. There weren’t even five thousand people in his Tio Jose’s entire
village. He let this process before he climbed to his feet. So, five thousand
views. Everyone was watching Lester. Not him. And as Steph had said, this would
be good for the shop. Publicity was publicity. He checked his reflection in the
mirror and smoothed his thick dark hair, before squaring his shoulders and
heading back into the fray. The patrons had at least doubled. The shop had an
occupancy capacity of three hundred, and while they were nowhere near that
number, they still had twice as many guests as was typical for a Thursday afternoon.

He
glanced outside at the weak January sun attempting to singe the edges of gray
clouds. The rain was good for business. But so, apparently, were musical dog
videos.

A
blinding light flashed, making Nick blink. Had someone just taken his picture?

#

Adrienne
gripped the steering wheel as she pulled up at a light and stared at the
building in front of her. She had driven to 44 East Elm on auto-pilot. There,
in front of her, stood the offices of Cavallero Land Development. Her eyes
traveled to the top floor. Seb’s office. She imagined him sitting at his big
desk. She could go in and talk to him. Confide her worries. Reveal her
insecurities about how they rarely talked. How little they touched. When had he
stopped calling in the middle of day? When had her company become an obligation
or duty to fulfill?

A
Volkswagen behind her bleeped its horn. The light had turned green. When? How
long had she been parked there—not really coming or going, stuck in neutral?

The
Volkswagen bleeped louder and longer. After raising her hand in apology, Adrienne
turned onto High Street, away from Seb. Irrationally upset, angry with herself
for being overly emotional, she pointed the car toward her own office. But then
she saw him.

Her
husband had his arm flung around the shoulders of a tall dark-haired beauty wearing
a cobalt blue coat and a pair of red stiletto heels. Who dresses like that to
the office? The woman turned and answered Adrienne’s question. Therese Acosta
dressed like that. Therese Acosta kissed Seb on a Seattle corner.

A
Honda in front of Adrienne stopped suddenly, forcing Adrienne to slam on her
breaks. The front hood of her BMW came dangerously close to the Honda. A large
furry dog in the backseat of the other car stared at her. Adrienne’s heart hammered at her near miss. Had Seb seen
the almost accident? Was Theresa laughing at Adrienne’s clumsy driving? Adrienne
tightened her grip on the steering wheel and sped away to anywhere else.

#

Adrienne
woke in the middle of the night to find Sebastian asleep beside her. Sitting
up, she stared at his inert form and for the first time considered a life
without him. He slept with his back to her, his dark head just poking up out of
the blankets. Gray light filtered in through the slats of the window blinds and
cut stripes across the rumpled bedclothes.

Picturing
the bed empty was easy enough. Lately, Sebastian had been gone more than he’d
been home. Traveling. Business. Even on weekends. How could she have been so
stupid?

She
glanced at the clock. Three a.m. Lying back against her pillows, she stared at
the ceiling, and, like a chess master, she began to plan out her next move.

“What
are you doing?” Sebastian mumbled.

“Leaving
you.” Adrienne rolled from the bed and padded across the room in the dark.

“You
can’t.” Sebastian pulled the quilt over his shoulder. He didn’t even seem
surprised by her pronouncement.

“Watch
me.” She threw the words over her shoulder.

“It
will kill Abuelo,” Sebastian said.

Adrienne
had thought of this, and while she loved the old man, she’d long grown tired of
Sebastian’s family’s hierarchy and manipulating ways. Inside her closet, she
flipped on the light, pulled down her suitcase, and began to fill it. She
glanced at her sweaters and jeans—Seattle winter wear—and instead chose shorts,
T-shirts, and sundresses. She was going to find summer.

Three
weeks later

“What
would you like for dinner?” Aubrey asked.

Adrienne
shrugged her response without looking up from her Argentina Now! Magazine. There was an article on Iguazu Falls, and Adrienne
promised herself she would go. Soon. Although, she’d been in Uruguay for one
week already and had only left her sister’s apartment once.

Aubrey
blew out a sigh. “Will you stop, already?”

“What?”
Adrienne stared at her sister. Despite their ten-year age difference, they were
similar in appearance—tall, blond, willowy. Neither wore much make-up. The
major difference was that Aubrey was usually spattered in mud.

“You’re
an attorney, for pity sake. Arguing is what you do!”

Adrienne
turned her attention back to the magazine and tried to ignore Aubrey. “You want
me to argue about what we have for dinner?” she said after a beat of silence.
When Aubrey didn’t answer right away, she looked up.

Aubrey
who stood in the kitchen surrounded by terra-cotta pots filled with rosemary,
basil, dill, oregano, and lavender shook her trowel at Adrienne. “I want you to
do something!”

Adrienne
looked back at her magazine and flipped through it until she found the pictures
of the most luxurious bookstore she’d ever seen. “I’m going to go to El Ateneo Grand Splendid.”

Aubrey
looked at her through slit lids. “When?”

Adrienne
swung her feet off the sofa and planted them on the wooden floor. “Now?”

Adrienne
shared the guest bedroom with a shelf holding dozens of glass jars full of
herbs and spices and pots filled with various trees. A warm light shone on a
tray of seedlings in the corner. These plants were the love and passion of her
sister’s life and Adrienne knew she was lucky that Aubrey would carve a space
out for her, but still, she secretly wished for a room less junglesque. Adrienne
found her shoes wedged between a potted grapefruit tree and a watering can. She
slipped them on before padding back into the living room.

Aubrey
stood in the entry with her coat on. She’d removed her dirty apron, but she
still wore a smudge of dirt on her forehead.

“Are
you coming with me?” Adrienne asked.

This
time it was Aubrey that answered with a shrug.

“Well,
then you might want to wash your face,” Adrienne said with a smile.

“Have
you heard from him?” Aubrey asked once they got outside.

“No.”
Adrienne turned her face to the sun. Although Buenos Aires was a much larger
city than Seattle, they both sat on the water and shared similar climates. But
they were polar opposites. When Seattle was gray with winter, Buenos Aires
enjoyed the summer sun and vice a versa.

“I
don’t think she was the only one,” Adrienne said in a small voice.

“What
makes you so sure?”

Adrienne’s
thoughts skittered over the years and lingered on all the prolonged business
trips that had filled her seven-year marriage. “Did you know some say that the
seven-year itch is a real thing?”

Aubrey
nodded. “Divorce rates show a trend in couples that, on average, divorce around
seven years. Statistics say there is a low risk of separation during the first
months of marriage. After the "honeymoon" months, divorce rates start
to increase. Most married couples experience a gradual decline in the quality
of their marriage; in recent years around the fourth year of marriage. Around
the seventh year, tensions rise to a point that couples either divorce or adapt
to their partner.”

“So
says the woman who never married.”

“And
never will,” Aubrey said. “Did you know that human cells are replaced every 7
years? So, it’s like you’re a brand-new person every seven years. Although the
lining of your stomach and intestines are renewed much faster.”

Adrienne
kicked a pebble down the sidewalk, thinking of how much her sister sounded like
their father. “Have you talked to Dad recently?”

“No,
have you?” Aubrey skated her a glance. “I assume you told Mom.”

“Hmm,”
Adrienne muttered.

“Let
me guess what she said, I told you so?”

Adrienne
elbowed her. “You’re so smart.” Adrienne paused on the corner of Avenida Indepencia and stared at the
University of Argentina. “Which building is the science building?”

“My
lab is on the other side of campus. You should visit.”

“I
think I will.” It felt good to change the subject. She asked about Aubrey’s
work, her colleagues, and her sabbatical from the University of Washington as they
walked down the street until they reached Avenida
Sant Fe. Once they passed through the doors of El Aetona, Adrienne murmured, “I may never leave.” And she didn’t
know if she was talking about the bookstore or Argentina.

#

Sebastian
pushed through the doors of the Taberna
de Música. If the crowded shop surprised him, he didn’t show it. Nick took
a deep breath and braced his shoulders for the encounter with his cousin and
best friend.

Seb
waved to Nick. Like all of the Cavallero men, he
was tall, broad, and handsome. And impatient.

Nick
motioned for Seb to join him in the back office.

Seb
nodded before attempting to weave through the patrons without spilling anyone’s
coffee. “This place is a zoo,” Seb said. “Are you going to expand?”

“Nah.
Things will calm down soon.” At least, he hoped so. Nick took the chair behind
the desk.

Seb
settled on the cracked leather sofa. “What if they don’t?”

“They
will,” Nick said with more certainty than he felt.

“Not
if Steph has anything to do with it,” Seb said.

“Your
sister,” Nick said, “is a Godsend.”

“But
is she a plague or a blessing?” Seb asked, grinning.

Nick
beat his fingers on his desk, waiting for his cousin to get to the point of his
visit.

“Have
you heard from Adrienne?” Seb finally asked.

“No,
why? Haven’t you?”

Seb
frowned and looked out the rain-streaked window. “She’s gone to visit her
sister.”

“Right.”
Nick knew that.

“It’s
been a few weeks…”

“Yeah.”

Seb
leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Abuelo can’t know.”

Nerves
tingled down Nick’s spine and the palms of his hands started to sweat. “That
she’s gone to visit her sister?”

“That
she’s gone.” Seb didn’t fill in any
of the blanks, but Nick’s thoughts rush to answer all the questions.

“She
left you?” Nick tightened his grip on the pen he was holding, realized what he
was doing, and set it down quickly in hopes that Seb wouldn’t pick up on his
visceral reaction.

“Nah.”
Seb stood and went to the window to stare out at Seattle’s busy sidewalks. “I
mean, she’ll be back.”

Nick
fought the urge to clamp his hand on his cousin’s shoulder and spin him around
and pelt him with questions first and his fists second.

“Well,
it’s just, you know Aubrey is in Buenos Aires on sabbatical which means that Adrienne
is also in Buenos Aires.” He paused as if waiting for Nick to connect the dots.

“You
want Tio Jose to check in on her?”

“No.”
Seb turned around and frowned at Nick. “I mean, it probably won’t come to this.
She’ll be back…but I thought, maybe you could go and get her if Abuelo starts
to ask questions. Maybe drop by and see Tio Jose, swing past Aubrey’s.”

Nick
narrowed his eyes at Seb, trying to read him. They had been raised as brothers
and had shared a room since Seb was thirteen and Nick ten. Instead of resenting
a young, fresh from Argentina cousin foisted on him, Seb had taken Nick under
his wing, made him his protégé, introduced him to his friends, coached him in
sports. Nick had adored him. But their relationship changed the moment Seb had
brought Adrienne home.

“Come
on, you know she loves you,” Seb said. “If you ask her to come back, she will.”

“Why
would I do that?” Nick asked. “Why ask her to come back to an unhappy
situation?”

“Who
says the situation is unhappy?”

Nick
folded his hands to keep him from strangling his cousin. “If she was so happy then
why did she leave?”

“She
wanted to see her sister?”

“And
why would I need to persuade her to return?”

“Because
I’m her husband?”

“That’s
an argument that should be made by her husband. What are you not telling me?”

Seb
pushed his fingers through his black hair, making it stand on end. “Abuelo
can’t know.”

“Can’t
know what?” Nick pressed.

Seb
turned back to the window. “As soon as Abuelo dies, the company will be mine. But
if he finds out…it’s in her best interest to stay married, you know, for the
time being. I’ll be worth a lot more and the divorce settlement will—”

“Divorce?”
Nick stood. “You’re talking divorce?”

“Well,
not until Abuelo is gone.”

“You
make it sound like he’s going to the grocery store. We’re talking about the end
of his life. And that business and his family is his life!”

“Exactly.
You know how he is. You understand his feelings on divorce.”

“You
want to divorce Adrienne?” He tried to tamp down the hope and incredulity in
his voice, but he still heard the rise of timbre. Thankfully, Seb, always so
self-centered, didn’t pick up on it.

“Not
while Abuelo is alive. It’s not even an option!”

Nick
choked back his questions.

“Look,
I’ll pay for the flights.”

“You
should go,” Nick said. “You said she loves me, but she loves you more. You’re
her husband.”

Seb
opened his mouth, but as the ground rolled, his face filled with astonishment.

Nick
braced his feet and held onto the shaking desk. “Earthquake,” he murmured.

Commotion
came from the next room—a woman screaming, a child crying, a dog barking.

“Did
someone bring a dog in here?” Nick asked, astonished.

Jon
ran in. “You okay, boss?”

“Yeah,”
Nick said. “I better go and make sure everything is—” He cut his sentence short
as another earthquake rolled through.

“The
Cascadia Subduction Zone.” Seb laughed, but still sounded nervous. “They say
everything west of I-5 is supposed to break off into the ocean.”

“I’m
good,” Nick said with a grin because his shop and home were on the Eastside.

“But
I’m screwed.”

“Yeah,
you are,” Nick said, and he wasn’t thinking about earthquakes.

ONE
WEEK LATER

Adrienne
sat at a waterfront café nursing a cup of hot cocoa while she watched an artist
paint the sunset. “We’re in the same sort of field, you know,” she told the old
man wielding a paintbrush and wearing a beret. “We probably took the same
classes in college.”

“I
didn’t go to college,” the man told her.

“Oh.
Well, you’re very good,” she told him. “I was in graphic design.”

“But
now you’re not?” He didn’t look at her, but kept his attention flicking between
his canvas and the fading sun. Paint splattered his long beard.

“I’m
an attorney.”

The
man chuckled. “I didn’t go to law school either.”

“I
wish I hadn’t.”

The
man didn’t say anything but lifted his eyebrow.

“Have
you ever wanted to change everything about your life?”

“No,”
he said. “What do you want to change?”

“I
just said, everything.”

“You
cannot mean that. There must be people that you love.”

“Of
course, but…not everyone I love loves me back.”

“Por supuesto. It’s unreasonable to
expect them to.”

“Is
it?”

“It’s
not only an unrealistic expectation, it’s also unfair.”

Adrienne
blew out a sigh. “But if you’ve pledged your life to someone…”

“Ah,
but that is different.”

#

Nick
stood on the embankment near the Río de
la Plata watching the fading sun. He had lost both of his parents to the
river. The memories, long faded, were nothing more than a dull, gray ache. Of
the actual accident itself, he had little recollection, and for this, he was
glad. Everyone had told him his survival had been a miracle. Why had the freak
storm that had capsized their boat not taken him as well as his parents?

Familiar
laughter cut through Nick’s painful memories. He turned, searching the crowded
plaza, then he spotted her bright yellow hair. Adrienne sat at a bistro style
table, her chin propped on her cupped hands as she gazed out at the dying sun.
The light breeze ruffled the hem of her cherry strewn sundress. She appeared to
be chatting with an elderly man who was painting the sunset. The sound of her
voice reeled Nick closer.

“But
you still love your husband?” the man asked.

“Of
course, just because he no longer loves me doesn’t mean I can just turn off my
feelings.”

Nick
froze, unsure of how to approach her.

“I
mean, it’s not like my emotions come with an on or off button,” Adrienne told
the man.

“But
you’re happy here, now, without him.”

“Absolutely.
But this isn’t real life. This is a vacation.”

“A
vacation.” The man dipped his brush into a smear of blue paint on his palette
and carefully drew a streak along the upper edge of his canvas. “But why must
life be more or less than a vacation? Should we not be happy all the time?”

Adrienne
blinked at him. “We have to work.”

“Is
that why you went to law school instead of pursuing art?”

Adrienne
made a noise that coming from anyone else would be a snort. Nick edged closer
and a twig snapped beneath his shoe.

Adrienne
lifted her gaze and met his. Her cornflower blue eyes widened with surprise.
“Nick!” She stood and launched herself into his arms.

He
caught her and inhaled her vanilla scented shampoo. But there was something
different about her, too. She was thinner, brittle, breakable.

She
pulled away to look into his face. “Oh my gosh, what are you doing here?”

“My
Tio Jose,” he began.

The
worry lines around her eyes faded. “Of course. How is he?”

“He’s
good. Aging…”

The
man behind the easel pointed his paintbrush at Nick. “This man is not your
husband.”

“No.
This is his cousin, Nicolas.”

“Ah,”
the man said as if he could see what Adrienne could not. That Nick was, and
always had been, completely in love with Adrienne.

CHAPTER

Adrienne
laced her fingers through Nick’s, abandoned her cup of cocoa, and gazed into
his eyes. “I’m so glad to see you. I’ve been getting bored and lonely. When she
isn’t cooped up in her lab, Aubrey spends all of her time talking to her
plants.”

Nick
squeezed her hands, knowing that this was his opening—where he needed to say, why not come home? But he couldn’t make
himself say the words.

As
if she had read his thoughts, Adrienne asked, “How is everyone at home?”

Her
everyone, he knew, meant Seb. “Hmm,
good.”

“And
the shop?” Adrienne pressed. She had helped him navigate all the legal
documentation and permits when he’d first opened the Taberna de Música, so she had a vested interest in it. She hadn’t
let him pay her, so unbeknownst to her, he deposited a small percentage of his
monthly earnings into an account Seb had set up for her for just this purpose.

Nick
ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s…crazy.”

“Crazy,
huh?”

So,
she hadn’t seen the YouTube videos. He swallowed, debating on whether or not to
show them to her.

He
made a decision and dug his phone out of his pocket. “In fact, I have to show
you something.” After pulling up the video of him and Lester, he scooted his
chair so close that his shoulder brushed against Adrienne’s.

Adrienne
watched, clearly enchanted.

“Almost
a million views,” Nick said.

She
laid her head on his shoulder. “I always forget how talented you are.”

Nick
bit his lip to curb the urge to kiss her hair. “There’s more.”

“More?”

“It
seems that Steph has been secretly taping me perform for a while.”

“Whoa,”
Adrienne breathed.

Nick
sniffed and scrolled to the next video. “Not only did she tape me, but she had
the videos professionally edited.” He swallowed. “They’re actually pretty
good.” He handed the phone back to her and watched her face. The sound of his
songs filled the air.

She
squeezed his arm and blinked back tears after the second video ended. “That was
beautiful,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “There’s more?”

He
nodded. “Quite a few more.” He cleared his throat. “To quote Steph, Iam an internet sensation. I had to leave.”

“Leave?”
She twisted so she could see his face. Her nearness took his breath. “Why would
you need to leave?”

“The
tavern is…as I said, crazy. Standing room only even during the mid-day when we
should have a lull. I need some guidance from my uncle. He doesn’t know I’m
here. I’m going to surprise him tomorrow. Would you like to go with me?”

“I
would love to, but if your business is as busy as you say, how can you afford
to be gone?”

“I
hired three more people. Steph and Jon can run it as well as me.”

“So,
you’re hiding?”

He
had come to seek advice from his uncle and to see Adrienne but he didn’t feel
the need to share the former of those things. He decided to turn the tables on
her. “Are you?”

“Ah.”
She pulled away from him as if he’d stung her, and then changed the subject.
“How is the family?”

Should
he tell her about his conversation with Sebastian? No. “Abuelo is as crazy as ever. Tia Maria’s Sofia died.”

“I
always hated that cat, but Tia Maria must be sad.”

“You
would think, but within a week she replaced Sofia with a really mean chihuahua
she picked up at the shelter.”

Adrienne
wrinkled her eyebrows. “Why does she like mean animals?”

Nick
shrugged. “Why do we love who we love? Who can say?”

The
man with the paintbrush raised his eyebrows and met Nick’s gaze. Nick looked
away, afraid to let his feelings show.

#

Tio
Jose still lived in the apartment behind his beachfront music café. Every
evening, guitarists, mariachi bands, and solo vocalists gathered for their
chance to perform on Uncle Jose’s makeshift stage, but the afternoon—especially
during the siesta hours—were quiet. Nicolas was counting on this.

He
picked Adrienne up from her sister’s apartment the next morning. “The ferry to
Colonia de Sacramento is less than an hour,” he told her. “And the crossing
should be calm, given the weather. Do you get seasick?” He would rather die
than admit to his own weaknesses.

Nick’s
thoughts skittered back to Seattle, where it would be gray and drizzly. “Do you
want to bring a sweater, just in case?”

She
shook her head and wrapped her hand around his arm. “I’m loving this weather.
It’s like I was so cold and lonely in Seattle, but here…I’m finally beginning
to thaw.”

He
put his hand over hers. “I’m glad. Come on,” he urged her to move faster down
the sidewalk, “we need to be at the dock an hour before our boat leaves.”

She
wore a pair of espadrilles and an embroidered sundress that skimmed the tops of
her knees. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail that bounced when she
walked, she looked like a different creature than the black-suited attorney
she’d morphed into after she’d graduated from law school.

Nick
didn’t want to talk about their life in Seattle, but curiosity drove him to it.
“What’s happening at Crenshaw and Meeks?”

“I
had just finished up a big case and told Crenshaw I needed a leave of absence.”

“And
he just let you go?” That didn’t sound like the Crenshaw Nick knew.

“I
think he knows about Seb and Therese.” She skated him a glance. “Do you know
about Seb and Therese?”

Nick
stopped at a flower cart and without saying a word, he purchased a bouquet of wild
flowers and handed them to her.

“I
don’t want your pity!” She pushed the blooms away.

“Well,
if you won’t accept these, will you please just hold them?”

“Why
should I?”

“Well,
for one thing, they match your dress, and for another, I feel it’s a slight to
my manhood to carry a floral bouquet.”

“That’s
silly.” But she took the flowers while he paid the florista.

“Not
as silly as Seb having an affair.” Nick draped his arm around Adrienne’s
shoulders. He was wading into dangerous waters by trying to comfort her without
exposing his heart. “Any man who would choose another over you would be…silly
to the extreme…like Mr. Bean.” Adrienne loved British comedy, but Seb hated it.
“Right now, I’m so mad at Seb I can’t even say his name without feeling
incredible rage, so I have a suggestion.”

She
slid him a glance. “What’s that?” she asked, her voice full of suspicion.

“We
will not say the name of…your husband, my cousin. From now on, his code name
will be Mr. Bean.”

A
smile tugged on Adrienne’s lips. “He would hate it if he knew.”

“Then
we have to tell him!” He dug his phone out of his pocket.

Adrienne
took his phone from his hand. “Hmm, not yet. Maybe when the thought of him no
longer hurts.”

“Do
you think you’ll get there?”

They
arrived at the dock. A cluster of people crowded around the gangplank. Nick
pulled his wallet from his pocket and went to purchase the tickets.

“You’re
helping,” she told him as soon as he returned. “Before you showed up, I was
just hanging out at Aubrey’s watering the plants—not with my tears, but a
watering can—okay, sometimes with my tears…I was beginning to hate myself. No,
stop. If I’m honest, I’ll admit that I’ve been hating myself for a while.”

As
if to argue, the ferry blew its horn. The sound struck a chord in Nick’s chest.
He wanted to help Adrienne, but he also didn’t want to get seasick. “I can’t
imagine anyone, even or especially you, hating you.”

The
crowd surged up the gangplank and Nick and Adrienne moved with the tide of
people.

“You’re
sweet,” Adrienne said. “And you’re only saying that because you’re such a good
person you can’t hate anyone.”

“Right
now, I’m hating S—Mr. Bean for making you feel that way.”

She
lifted a shoulder in a defeated shrug. “He fell in love with Therese.”

Everything
that sprang to Nick’s mind couldn’t be said. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I can
only think of profanities right now.”

They
made their way to the deck and Adrienne pressed against the railing. “Would it
be wrong if I just shouted out a whole bunch of naughty words at Mr. Bean?”

“Right
now?”

She
nodded.

“I’m
not sure if it would be wrong, but I don’t know if it would help. Not really.”

“Then
what would you suggest?”

“Not
thinking about him. Let’s pretend he no longer exists.” He held up his finger.
“I have an idea. I’ll be right back.” He went back into the cabin, pulled a
napkin from the dispenser near the snack bar, and returned to the deck just as
the boat pulled away from the dock. The horn sounded again. Nick took a deep
breath. For the moment, the boat held steady, but he knew that soon it would leave
the harbor’s protection and the rolling tide would be more pronounced. Could he
travel without getting ill? He would try, for Adrienne.

“Here,”
he said as he handed Adrienne the napkin and a pen from his pocket.

“What’s
this?”

“Write
down Mr. Bean’s real name—and any other name you want to call him.”

She
looked at the napkin in her hand and hesitated.

Nick
turned his back to her. “Use me as your hard surface.”

“What
if the ink leaks through onto your shirt?”

“Then
I’ll take off my shirt and toss it into the sea as well,” he said without
looking at her.

“Are
you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

She
held the napkin against his back and scribbled for a few minutes. When she
stopped, he turned asked, “Are you done?”

She
gazed at him with tear-filled eyes. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be really done.”

He
placed a finger under her chin. “You will. I promise. Now, throw him away.”

She
tossed the napkin in the air. The wind picked it up and carried it toward the
Argentina coast. It fluttered and swooped before hitting the water. It
disappeared in the boat’s churning foamy wake. Nick swallowed the bile rising
in his throat.

#

Nick
sighed and rolled his shoulders as the Uruguayan coast loomed ahead. The palm
trees swayed in the warm humid breeze. The stretch of beach welcomed him like long
lost love. He could already smell his aunt’s budín de pan even though he was still miles away from his Tio
Jose’s café. He gripped the railing as homesickness rocked through him.

Adrienne
wrapped her hand around his arm and leaned against him. For a moment, he let his
imagination carry him to a forbidden future, one that included Adrienne and
their children, the beach, a warm tide, laughter. He longed to recreate for his
own family the idyllic childhood that had been ripped from him with his
parents’ death. And he wanted Adrienne to be a part of that…but she was his
cousin and best friend’s wife. He edged away from her, frightened by his own
hunger.

If
Abuelo could read his thoughts, he would be hauled by his ear into see the
priest.

If
Abuelo could know of Seb’s infidelity, he would cut him off from the family and
leave him for dead.

No
matter. He couldn’t let Seb’s sins justify his own. He loved Adrienne as she
loved him, as a friend. And nothing more. Someday, he would find a wife of his
own and together they would bring their children to the beach to build
sandcastles and bonfires.

“It’s
such a relief to be here,” Nick told Adrienne.

“To
see your Tio Jose?”

“Yes,”
he replied, but he also thought, but
mostly because no one here has seen those ridiculous videos.

After
a few toots of the horn, the ferry landed. Nick guided Adrienne down the
crowded gangplank and onto the sidewalk of Colonia de Sacramento. He spotted a
taxi, hailed it, and placed his hand on the small of Adrienne’s back, urging
her toward the yellow taxi.

Tio
Jose lived in a small fishing village about twenty minutes north of Colonia de
Sacramento. Their driver, Manuel, a middle-aged man with a handlebar mustache,
knew it well.

“Your
wife is very beautiful,” Manuel told Nick in Spanish.

“Yes,
she is. Although she is not my wife, but my cousin’s,” Nick replied.

Manuel
glanced at Adrienne in the rearview mirror and gave her a flirtatious smile.

“Gracias,”
Adrienne said.

“Tis’
but a truth,” Manuel said.

“Manuel,
if you had millions of dollars, what would you do with it?” Adrienne asked
Manuel.

@“We’re
back to that?” Nick asked.

“Yes,”
Adrienne said. “I think that if God gives you the resources to do a tremendous
amount of good, you have a responsibility to use it to make the world a better
place.”

Manuel
laughed. “I suppose I would send my children to the university and pray that
they would do the world some good, but what if they didn’t? What if I paid for
them to gain an education, but they did nothing more than become taxi drivers?”

“But
would that be so bad?” Adrienne asked. “What if they really enjoy being a taxi
driver? Shouldn’t they be free to choose a profession that makes them happy?”

Manuel
snorted. “You’re right. I do not need a million dollars. I don’t want the
responsibility.”

“That’s
an interesting way to look at it,” Nick said as he watched the familiar
landscape flash by his window. His thoughts drifted to his Tio Jose and the
life they’d shared before Tia Martha’s death, before Nick had been sent to the
states. For the millionth time, he wondered if that move had been to his
benefit. His aunt and uncle had loved him, given him a good home, a wonderful
education, a stable upbringing, but maybe, like Manuel’s children, he would
have been just as happy working with his Tio Jose in Uruguay?

Manuel
pulled the taxi alongside the curb in front of Jose’s Café. Nick climbed out
and reached for Adrienne’s hand.

But
once on the sidewalk, he froze. Immediately, he knew something was terribly
wrong.

CHAPTER

The
sound of Nick’s voice floated through the café’s open windows. Adrienne didn’t
even try to hide her grin.

“Oh
no,” Nick muttered. He stood rooted to the sidewalk with a look of horror and
shock written on his face.

“Is
everything alright?” Manuel stuck his head out of the taxi window.

“Everything
is just fine,” Adrienne told Manuel as she elbowed Nick.

Nick
shook back to life. “Just peachy,” he growled, and ferreted his wallet out of
so he could pay Manuel.

“Then
what is the matter?” Manuel asked. “You look as if you have seen a ghost.”

“The
ghost of the future,” Adrienne said.

“Not
if I can help it.” Nick pocketed his wallet, slung his bag over his shoulder,
captured Adrienne’s, and marched into his Tio’s café like a soldier ready for
battle.

Grinning,
Adrienne tripped after him. The café patrons burst into applause and cheers as
soon as Nick passed through the doors. A handsome middle-aged man standing
behind the counter threw down his washcloth and approached Nick with
outstretched arms. A TV the size of a pool table stood in the corner playing
the YouTube video of Nick and the dog Lester at Pedro’s wedding.

“What’s
all this?” Nick asked before hugging his uncle.

The
two men slapped each other on the back. Tio Jose kissed both of Nick’s cheeks.

Nick
pulled away first and pointed at the enormous TV with a shaking hand. “When did
you get that?”

“Don’t
think that this is all about you!” Jose placed the palms of his hands on both
sides of Nick’s face. “We have to keep your head from swelling! All this
internet fame is bad for the soul, but good for the bank, hey?”

“Tio
Jose,” Nick muttered.

“Who
is the rubio you have brought with
you?” Jose turned his attention from Nick to Adrienne.

“This
is Adrienne, Seb’s wife?”

“Seb’s
wife?” Confusion flashed in Jose’s eyes.

“It’s
a pleasure to meet you,” Adrienne said in perfect Spanish and offered her hand.
“I happened to be in Buenos Aires visiting my sister. When Nick told me he was
visiting, I jumped at the chance to come with him. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind?”
Jose nearly shouted. “Why would I mind that a beautiful creature comes to my
humble café? Come,” he took Nick’s arm. “I have to introduce my famous nephew
to my friends.”

Adrienne
settled into a chair at the bar and watched while Jose steered a clearly
embarrassed and pained Nick around the café and introduced him to nearly
everyone. It astounded her that Jose seemed to know them all by name. Despite
his obvious discomfort, in time, Nick visibly relaxed and by the time he joined
her at the bar, his smile appeared genuine and warm.

“And
you?” Jose turned his gaze to Adrienne. “Surely, you must wish to return to my
other, less talented, nephew?”

Adrienne
didn’t know how to answer, but finally came up with. “I’m here to visit my
sister in Buenos Aires. She’s on sabbatical from the University of Washington.”
She gazed around the room at the variety of potted plants that decorated nearly
every corner. “In fact, she would be fascinated by some of your ferns.”

Adrienne
sucked in a deep breath and decided she needed to make Jose her accomplice.
Propping her elbows on the bar, she placed her chin in her hands. “I need your
help.”

“Yes.
You need to help me convince Nick that he needs to share his talent with the
world.”

Nick
pointed at the TV screen. “I am!”

“Willingly,”
Adrienne added gently.

“Ah,”
Jose said, “yes, I see that you do need my help.” He brushed his hands
together. “Princesa, you have come to
the right place. I am your man for this very difficult task. It will be hard.
Nick has always been a shy boy, but perhaps together, you and I, we will coax
him from his shell, no?”

“Yes!”
Adrienne said. She wanted to clap her hands.

“No!”
Nick shook his head. “Look, I don’t want to be a rock star. There are a million
dogs chasing after that bone. Speaking of which, where is Huesos Viejos?”

Sadness
washed over Jose’s face. “Gone to be with my beloved Martha.”

“Oh
no, I’m sorry,” Nick said.

Jose
braced his shoulders. “This is why I play your videos all day long. It’s to
keep me company. Well, that and it’s also good for business. You really could
be a rock star.”

Adrienne
felt Nick tense, and she placed her hand on his arm. “Sweetie, you don’t have
to be a rock star. Not that you aren’t terribly talented, but you aren’t cut
out for a life on a stage.”

“I’m
glad you see that,” Nick said, sliding a reproachful glance at his uncle.

“But
you don’t have to perform in front of crowd,” Adrienne said. “In fact, I have a
much better idea.”

“Whatever
it is, I don’t like it,” Nick said.

“How
can you know that?” Adrienne said.

“Because
I don’t like the look on your face.”

“She
has a beautiful face!” Jose said.

“Thank
you,” Adrienne said.

“Of
course, she does, but that doesn’t mean her ideas are as lovely!” Nick said.

“You
haven’t even heard me out,” Adrienne said.

Nick
cocked one eyebrow, which Adrienne interpreted to mean, go ahead, I’m listening, but I will dislike everything you say.

“I
did a little research last night.” Adrienne leaned in and raised her voice
because she knew many of Jose’s friends sitting in the café were interested in
what she had to say. “One music-business source estimates that acts can make
$1,500 per 1 million streams on YouTube via advertising. Top stars can make
even more by signing up sponsors.”

“That’s
a whole lot of streams for not a lot of money,” Nick said.

“But
it’s passive income,” Adrienne argued. “You put it up and it works while you’re
sleeping or surfing! Plus, look how many views your videos have garnered
without you doing a thing!”

“She’s
beautiful and brilliant!” Jose exclaimed. “How did Seb get so lucky?”

“Plus,”
Adrienne began.

“Another
one?” Nick mumbled.

She
nodded. “I really like this idea, and I think you will too.”

“Why
would you think that?”

“Because
this will be fun.”

“I
like fun,” Nick said grudgingly.

“Then
this is what we’ll do. We’ll travel to cool places in South America and you’ll
sing—”

“Wait.
No.” Nick stood, but Adrienne grabbed the back of his shirt as he turned away.

“Just
listen,” she pled. “You don’t have to perform in front of a crowd.”

“Okay,
so you’re saying we’ll just go to Machu Picchu when no one else is there? Like
when does that happen?”

Adrienne
grinned. “Midnight.” She shivered with anticipation. “It’ll be so cool.”

“Why
am I doing this?” Nick asked slowly returning to his seat.

“Listen,
I didn’t say anything at the time, but you should know, I really disagreed with
Manuel’s answer in the taxi.”

“Who
is this Manuel?” Jose asked.

“Our
taxi driver,” Nick told him.

“Just
because you don’t want or need money doesn’t mean that there aren’t a lot of
others you can help who do.”

“This
is true,” a man at a nearby table said. “My sister’s family lost their home in a
fire last week. Her six children are now sleeping on my kitchen floor.”

“But
maybe we could do something like I saw on an old Flintstone episode,” Jose put
in.

Nick
sucked in a deep breath, and Adrienne feared he was gathering steam before
exploding.

“Barney
Rubble couldn’t sing in front of crowd—he could only perform in the shower,”
Jose said, “Maybe you could try singing in the next room. We could set up a
microphone so everyone could hear you.”

Adrienne
watched indecision flicker through Nick’s eyes.

“It
would be pretty cool to go to Machu Picchu at midnight,” he said.

Jose
slapped his hand on the table. “Let’s try it!”

“Machu
Picchu?” Nick asked.

“No!”
Jose stretched across the table so he could slap Nick on the side of the head.
“You sing in the next room.” He nodded in that direction. “Everyone will listen
out here.”

“I
don’t know…” Nick drew out the words.

“One
song,” Jose wheedled. “A short one,” he added when Nick didn’t respond right
away. “Two to three minutes tops. Anyone can do anything for two minutes.”

“So
not true,” Nick said. “You can’t hold your breath for two minutes. You can’t
stand in a fire two minutes or swim in icy waters for two minutes. Did you know
that if it’s twenty below and you spit your spit will freeze before hitting the
ground?”

“No
one is asking you brave fire or ice,” Jose said.

“The
café will be less crowded than the weddings where you have performed,” Adrienne
said. “I’m wondering what’s the problem.”

Nick
swallowed and shook his head. “You’re right, it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Hooray!”
Jose exclaimed, “I’ll set up the microphone!”

“And
I’m going to the beach.” Nick pushed to his feet.

“Fine,
but be back here at eight,” Jose said before standing and announcing to the
crowd, “All of tonight’s proceeds will go to the Hernandez family!”

#

They
spent the day playing at the beach. Several times, Adrienne felt like pinching
herself to make herself wake from an amazing dream where there was nothing but
warm water, hot sand, and a clear blue sky. It was as if Seattle and Seb
belonged to a different world—a soggy and rain-drenched universe where she had
to wear black suits and make arguments for other people’s problems while her
own concerns festered beneath the surface.

She
watched Nick swimming in the tide, moving away from her with strong, sure
strokes. The first time they’d met, she’d been twenty and he sixteen—almost
seventeen, but still just kid. He looked like Seb, but less confident, less
substantial. He’d been wiry then, with a shock of dark hair that fell over his
forehead. He’d jerk his head back to keep it out of his eyes. He’d been quiet,
watchful, reserved, but had been a surprisingly fierce competitor when it came
to a game of any kind—cards, soccer, or basketball. Not that she had ever
played the later two with him, but she’d seen him go toe to toe with Seb many
times on the basketball court. Seb, being bigger and stronger, had usually won,
but Nick had put up a challenge. Idly, she wondered who would win if they
should play today.

A
shudder passed through her as her thoughts turned to Seb. She had promised
herself and Nick that she wouldn’t think about him, but at some point, she
would need to reach a decision. She couldn’t hide out at her sister’s
indefinitely. Briefly, a cloud shrouded the sun and the air cooled. Could this
phase of her marriage be like the passing cloud? Cold and dark momentarily? Sunny
and warm in the future? Or would there always be another Therese on the
horizon?

Adrienne
dove into the tide and tried to let all thoughts of Seb go. Closing her eyes,
she swam hard, enjoying the rush of water against her skin. She stopped when
she bumped into someone.

“Hey,”
Nick said. “I caught you.” He stood before her, the water glistening off his
tan skin, his hair slicked back, his dark eyes shining.

Adrienne’s
feet sought solid ground, but she couldn’t find it. Nick reached out, snagged
her wrist and pulled her closer to the shore.

“I’ve
been thinking about your idea,” he told her. “Come on, let’s go back to the
café and make it happen.”

#

Nick
set up his laptop while Adrienne took a shower. Because Uncle Tio lived in a
second-story apartment above the café, Nick could hear the shower running while
he waited for his computer to boot up. He steered his thoughts away from
Adrienne. That way lies madness, he
told himself as memories of the slippery smoothness of her skin as they played
in the tide tormented him.

His
phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket. Seb. “Hey, I was just thinking about you,” he told his cousin. In a round about way.

“How’s
it going?” Seb asked. “Are you two coming home soon?”

“In
a round about way,” he said, echoing his thoughts.

“What
does that mean?”

“It
means we’ll get there, eventually.”

“That’s
good.”

“What
do you mean?”

Seb
cleared his throat. “Listen, I know I told you that I wanted you to bring her
home, but I was wondering…”

Nick’s
throat tightened and his breath caught. “Spit it out.”

“Well,
do you think you could try and keep her down there for a while?”

“Why?”

Seb
grunted. “Abuelo is going to Rome for a month.”

“Rome?
That doesn’t sound like something a dying man would do!”

“He
said he wants to see the Vatican before he dies.”

“Okay,
but what does that have to do with Adrienne, or me?”

“I
have some things I need to work out. They require some…finesse.”

“What
sort of things? Therese-type things?”

“Ah,
so you know about her?”

“I
think everyone does.”

“Not
everyone,” Seb said grimly.

“Seb,
tell me, if it wasn’t for Abuelo and the business—” Nick had a dozen questions
he wanted to ask, but he pressed his lips closed when Adrienne appeared in the
doorway, backlit by the afternoon light. Even with her hair wet and her face
scrubbed clean of makeup, her beauty took his breath. A faint sunburn touched
her cheeks and nose. Her dress clung to her damp skin. “I gotta go,” Nick told
Seb in a strangled voice.

“Wait,
will you keep her down there?”

“It
might be expensive.”

“Whatever
it costs.”

“I’m
glad to hear you say that,” Nick said before ending the call. He turned his
phone to silent and put it back in his pocket.

“So
you’ve come up with a plan?” Adrienne settled into the chair across the table
from him.

“Iguazu
Falls, Machu Picchu, Punta Arenas--”

“Punta
what?”

“It’s
near Antarctica. There’s a penguin colony. Patagonia. The Glacier National
Park.”

“Wow.
This sounds expensive.”

“Don’t
worry about it.”

“I
can’t let you pay for me.”

“Why
not?” He grinned. “Consider it a business expense.”

“I’m
going to video tape you singing in all these locations?”

“Hmm,
I’ll be a where’s Waldo with a guitar.”

“I
love it! But…”

“But
what?”

“I
need to start thinking about going home.”

“Why?”

Her
eyes welled with tears. “Oh, Nick, what am I going to do?”

“You
are going to travel South America with me.”

“I’m
going to make you star is what I’m going to do,” she said, “but we don’t need
to travel to do that.”

“But
it’ll be more fun this way,” Nick told her.

She
tipped her head, hiding her eyes. “True,” she murmured. When she looked up, she
looked more hopeful. “Where do you want to go first?”

“I
thought we’d make a circle,” he said, turning his laptop and showing her his
proposed map. “Iguazu Falls, Machu Picchu, Patagonia, the glaciers.”

“Why
not Brazil?”

“We’d
need to get a visa, but we could stop in Venezuela, maybe Costa Rica and Cancun
on our way home.”

“It
all sounds so…incredible.”

Nick
wanted to tell her that the most incredible unbelievable part of the whole
thing was that Seb, always so smart, had turned into an idiot of a husband. “But
it’ll take a few days to get our flights set up, so until then, tell me—are you
afraid of ghosts?”

“Why?”

“I
want to sing in the Recoleta Cemetery
before dawn.”

“Did
you say ghosts?”

“Quite
a few, actually,” he said.

“Yeah?”

He
nodded. “They say Rufina Cambaceres had mistakenly been buried alive near the
turn of the last century. Local workers heard screams a few days after her
burial, and when her coffin was disinterred, they found scratch marks on her
face and on the insides of the coffin. It was later thought that she had been
in a coma.”

So are you,
he thought, battling back the images of Adrienne in her swim suit.

She
cocked her head, studying him. “You’re willing to break into a cemetery, brave
security that may possibly be armed and ghosts, and who knows what weapons they
wield, but when it comes to singing in a crowd, even though you have an amazing
voice, you want to hide out in the next room.”